


The missing garments affair

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, OT3 FEELS, Post-Movie, TLC, also staring, but no action, injuries, missing clothes, spies taking care of a russian puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby walks in on an almost-naked Illya after a shower. His clothes are apparently missing. </p><p>After marvelling at his physique for a bit, she and Solo see his wounds and decide to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The missing garments affair

Gaby wasn't really supposed to be there, but she was kind of glad that she was. In retrospect, maybe she should have knocked on the door before storming in, given some indication that she was going in, should have said something. But she didn't, and found in front of her a most interesting sight. 

It was Illya's back, apparently after having had a shower recently, wearing only his boxers, blond hair dripping wet, a small white towel on his neck, looking for something on their suite. And there she was, rooted to the spot with the door half open, spying her partner's bare back, taking it all in. In the little time they had spent working together they had always seen each other fully clothed, despite having shared a room for a good part of it. She hadn't thought she would seen him like this, not for a while at least, despite having fantasised about it on an occasion or two. 

He was almost even more imposing than usual half naked, as if his size became even more prominent. His back was perfectly chiseled, and with every tiny move he made she could see all the muscles, all the lines, the myriad of scars and the cuts and bruises that she guessed were from that bike falling on top of him. The tiny droplets of water making everything shine. The legs... and that butt. Absolutely incredibly perfect. A peak of male beauty, too much even. Her mind stopped working for a bit. It was intoxicating. 

Illya with his spy-trained senses noticed her presence, and turned around to make sure she wasn't a threat - which gave Gaby a beautiful view of his bare front. It was even more black and blue than the back, and under the bruises she could see the shadow of even more scars. Still those shirts and turtlenecks made no justice to the treasure inside, I mean, wow. Gaby had seen naked men before, but none of them half so spectacular. Half so tempting.

Illya looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. His expression was halfway between ashamed, apologetic and confused. He was even blushing a bit, something she hadn't expected to see on the stoic russian in a million years. And then his face completely changed to something more ressembling his usual anger. 

“Solo, what have you done with my clothes?”

Unbeknownst to Gaby, who had been too busy staring, the last member of their little team have appeared on the doorway, and was smiling mischievously next to her. 

“Who says it was me?” The american said, an amused tone in his voice. Illya menacingly walked towards them, still wet, with one his murder glares on, but apparently that didn't work on Solo. “Could've been her. She's enjoying this as much as me.” He said, pointing at Gaby, as an excuse. 

Now that Illya was so close Gaby could see better the big motorbike-shaped bruise that crossed his chest, and the many cuts and scrapes surrounding it. 

“That looks painful.” She said, trying to avoid suspicion and change the subject. “Shouldn't you see a doctor?”

“I am fine. I've had worse.”

Napoleon used the moment to step inside the room and sit on one of the armchairs, never taking his eyes off the nearly naked agent.

“It's clear as day that you have, scar-man. I can see it clearly now, Peril cleaning a bullet wound with vodka in a desserted alleyway, in the middle of the freezing cold night, without making a sound to avoid alerting the enemies... It's kind of sad, isn't it?”

“Endurance is a virtue, not cause for sadness. And that only happened once and it wasn't as cold as it could have been for a November night in Leningrad.”

“So sad.” Gaby added. Another day, she would ask about that story. When they knew each other better, she would ask the stories of all of his scars, and maybe cuddle him a bit, put a blanket on him or something, reassure him that he would never have to clean his own wounds in the silence of the russian night. Not alone, at least. Never alone again.

Illya felt out of place, out of his game, and strangely vulnerable without his clothes. And those looks of concern...It was unsettling. He was used to threats, to being an asset and hardly anything more. He could deal with fights, with several enemies at once, with complex code that needed tracking. But concern...It had been him and only him for many years, and he'd made very clear that he could take care of himself alone perfectly. It was expected of him. It was also expected of him to be fully clothed at all times, so this situation, complete with his team mate playfulness, was most unsettling. 

“Let's do something here, Peril. I'll give you back your clothes if you let us play doctor for a bit.”

“Excuse me?” Illya said, his eyes widening. 

Gaby smiled at Solo, and they got into it. 

There were bandages, ice, a first aid kit and many scowls from a russian who kept telling them that this was not necessary. Necessary or not, with some light music on the background, Gaby and Napoleon took care of the Russian's nastiest wounds, bruises and even burns (where had those even come from? Before the mission perhaps?) while he fumbled and looked at them with confused irritation. 

When Illya was finally asleep, after their TLC session, and he and Gaby were having a drink in the parlour, Napoleon asked:

“So.... why hide the clothes?”

Gaby smiled.

“I was curious. And I knew he would blame you.”

“You're dangerous, really dangerous.”

She didn't deny it. 

“Do you think he'll tell us something now, before sewing up his own wounds?” The german said, looking at where she knew the massive russian was sleeping. 

Napoleon took a sip of his drink and thought about it for a minute.

“Probably not. But maybe his clothes will disappear again after another dangerous mission.”

“Cheers to that, cowboy.”

**Author's Note:**

> My kingdom for post shower Illya fanart :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! ;)
> 
> If you did, please leve some feedback!


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